A Spinster's Experiment
by Hermy Puckle
Summary: Hermione Granger doubts the existance of luuuurve. Thus, she sets her mind into motion to develop an experiment to see if it really exists. Naturally, she enlists the aid of our beloved Potion's Master...
1. How Did My Foot Get Into My Mouth?

**Disclaimer: HP Universe? Sorry, don't own it. So quit asking me for my autograph! (jk)**

Anyway, this is an old thing that I found hidden deeeeep within the recesses of my computer's memory. I thought it was interesting and I think it is now. Unbeta'ed though, so excuse any mistakes.

* * *

"I want to experiment on you."

I blinked up at the young woman who'd stormed into my office demanding to speak with me at once, as if I could be doing nothing more important than whatever matters she wanted to talk about. I'd thought she wanted a potion or I to take one of her patrol shift, but her statement wasn't even the last thing I'd expected to hear; I hadn't even expected to hear it at all. I will admit that my mind immediately went to the nether regions, yet I knew that definitely could not be what she meant.

Miss Granger, my student just a few years ago, stood before me now a professor, my colleague. Her hair still had the wild out-of-control way she'd sported in her school days, although it had grown considerably and now touched her waist. There was, naturally, still that thirst for knowledge that caused her to constantly ask questions of everyone, even myself when I would only tell her to leave me alone. She also still insisted on belting out any information that happened to pop into her consciousness whether or not it pertained to the subject at hand.

But gone was the quite girl terrified of angering me lest I take house points or insult her. No, upon her first arrival as a professor of History of Magic, she'd stormed right up to me and told me that if I was going to treat her like one of my students which, she made certain to point out, she no longer was, then I had "another thing coming". I still do not know what this "thing" might be as, up until this Friday's eve, she'd taken to becoming mute around me, responding to anything I said with a very fiery glare.

Now she stood in front of my desk in muggle clothes, arms crossed over her chest like a shield, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She looked like a rabbit surrounded by wolves.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, wanting an elaboration.

She did nothing for three heartbeats but then sighed, pulled a chair up to my desk and folded her arms. In a very diplomatic way, she replied, "I have a theory that there is no thing such as love."

What? Now _that_ was the last thing I expected out of her. It sounded like something a spinster would say.

She leaned forward as if about to confide in me her deepest secrets and I followed suit (in leaning forward, not confiding my secrets). In the most diplomatic way possible, as calm as if she were asking me to pass the salt, she asked, "Now, be honest; how good are you in bed, "Professor?"

I leaned back against my chair, her question feeling like a bludger. I couldn't even formulate a reply, I was caught _that_ unawares. Hell, who wouldn't be? I mean, honestly. If you were a mean teacher—yes, I admit I can be quite nasty on my good days, not that I care—and one of your students, well, who used to be, sat down and asked you how well you were at shagging as if it were the most casual inquiry in the world, I would like to see how you'd react. Much in the same matter as I did, I'm certain.

Gawp at her.

And the chit went on as if it were nothing! "You see, I believe that all one needs in a mate or 'true love' is a best friend who is both attractive and a good shag. Now, when I ask blokes how well they are at sex, I usually get a very arrogant response. So, I was wondering if I could have the names and possibly locations of any of your former, or present, partners—are you seeing anyone as of now?"

Thickly, I shook my head. Finally, my voice returned and I managed to croak out, "Why, do you want to shag me?" I expected a no but, then again the way things were going now…

As if finally realizing that she was asking the Greasy Git about his sex life, she flushed deeply and her eyes dropped to my chest. "S-see, my experiment is…well…here's the thing, I plan on having two men on the opposite of the personality spectrum, one of them not being very well in bed get a relationship with women whom I pick out as their perfect mates. Ron is my other bloke and I know for a fact that he isn't very talented in the area of lovemaking."

I remembered how a few years ago he and Miss Granger had been dating.

"And since I don't know _personally_ how good you are at shagging—"

"You want to see for yourself?" As soon as it was out, I wanted to take my question and stuff it back into my groin where it belonged. I honestly don't know what came over me to ask such a query; it's as if my mouth began working on its own volition. Goddamnit, I'm turning into a pervert. Just another thing to add to my vat of Reasons Never to Go Out in Public.

The pigment on her skin deepened even further and she skirted the question by asking one of her own. "So do you want to be a part of my experiment? You'd be perfect as you and Ron are complete opposites. I'll even pay you!"

Hmmm…let's think about this, shall we? For the better of…ok, not society but of one person, I will get to shag someone who is apparently going to be my equal and to top it off, get paid to do so. Not your toughest decision. "I suppose…"

My lewd comment forgotten, she all but reached across the desk to hug me. "Oh, brilliant, Professor. Thank you so much!"

I felt quite literally like a new puppy who just learned a new trick and only replied, "I didn't do it for you." Did I? No, for the shag.

She nodded. "But can I have those names? Its essential that I see how you fair."

Oh, those women were not going to be happy about this.

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_A/N: if you've made it this far, tell me what you think! By the way, I am uncertain of when I will next be able to update as I have my plate full of other people's stories to edit, along with Calus' sequel, Confessions of an Agony Aunt. I will try soon if enough people review!_


	2. Learning How Torturous Snape Is

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Though Linda is. However, if JK Rowling wants, I am more than willing to trade her for Snape.

Quick A/N: From Hermione's POV this time. I plan on alternating.

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I have quite outdone myself this time; I truly have, on the embarrassment scale. 

What on earth was I thinking going onto Professor Snape's office and asking him how he was at shagging? What he must think of me! I mean, not that I _care_ what he thinks of me, but it was mortifying nonetheless. Ugh, I should have just asked someone else. Sure, Snape said yes but still, I could have saved myself a bit of humiliation as asking a stranger would be fine since chances were I'd never see him again. But Snape I _do_ have to see, and every day! Oh, if only I could control my blushing so he wouldn't know in much discomfit I am in.

And now, to _add_ to the awkwardness, I was tracking down his former lovers.

_Bloody fantastic, Hermione, you are at getting yourself into pickles such as these. Want to try to turn into a cat via Polyjuice again?_

Ugh.

I looked down at the list. It helps being in Slughorn's Slug Club. I just ask him to get a bit of information about some people and _boom_, twenty minutes later; there it was, popping out of my fireplace.

Now, how to get the information out of those women…

* * *

**Number One: Linda Malcovich**

'I can't believe I am going to be in _Witch Weekly_!' The tall stately brunette exclaimed, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

I nodded. I hated lying like this but when I flooed her, it was the first thing I could come up with. 'Well, er, that isn't promised as I still have to get the OK from my boss. And I will be interviewing many women.'

'What's the topic?'

'Hm?' I try to act dumb, even though I know what she's talking about. I am hoping to be able to stall her so that I can formulate a lie.

She repeats the question.

'Er, we are trying to see what kind of lover's women have had in the past, to, er, take a poll. And to see what women, our readers, er, like in… lovers.' Not bad!

She nodded, accepting the answer without a doubt. Giving her hair another flop, she took out a long fag. 'Mind if I smoke?' I shook my head and there, outside a café, I got the entire story:

Hermione Granger: Name?

Linda Malcovich: Linda Malcovich

H: How many lovers have you had in the past?

L: Men or women?

H: Er, men, preferably.

L (paused a second, looking up as her lips moves silently): Eight.

H: That's it?

L: Do I _look_ like a slag to you?

H (wisely not answering her question): Ok… any bad lovers?

L (nodding): A few. Two, actually.

H: Might I have their names?

L: Why?

H: Er, don't worry; we will change the names.

L: Marcus… Entoir, Marcus Entoir and… Severus Snape.

_Damn, damn, damn, damndamndamn!_

H: And what, er, made him—_them_ bad, bad lovers?

L (Hair-flip again): Well, Marcus I met while on Holiday in France. It was lust at first sight. We were at a Christmas party and he was this _very_ fit bartender. Well, we flirted a bit and then we snuck into a back room to have a roll. But, ugh! He was so clumsy and… (Held up index fingers about a hand-length apart) this big.

H (I did jot this down since, you may never know, Snape might have the same problem): And… the other one? What was wrong with him?

L: Oh, Severus? The bastard! First of all, he has an issue with women being in control. Didn't like my games very much. And was too damn good about getting out of the bonds!

H (Wow. The images that were flowing through my mind…): What about his technique?

L: All right, I suppose. I mean, he had this game of his he liked to play. He would bring me near the brink and then slow down until it subsided, only to do it again! The git always had this grin on his face, as if he enjoyed torturing me so!

H (More visuals. Wow. If anyone happened to pick through my imagination…): And the size of his…? How was it?

L: Good size, I suppose. Not the largest, though…

H: Er… How did you lot break up?

L: We split after I couldn't deal with his attitude any more. Plus, he was unwilling to do a threesome.

H: A man unwilling to have two women?

_Don't tell me he's gay!_

L (shook her head): Oh, no he was _fine_ with that. It was when I wanted two _men_. Well. That was when I realised how possessive he was and couldn't be with him any more. See, _I_ am the one who controls him, not the other way around. Or her. (She looked me up and down slowwwwly) Want to go to a disco later?

H: Er, sorry, no. Seeing someone. (LIE!)

I got out of there as soon as possible and looked at person number two on my list…

And nearly did a face-plant then and there.

_Sybil Trelawney???_

* * *

_A/N: Heeheehee. How is that for a cliffhanger? Let's just say that this is what it's like inside my mad mind. And don't worry, there is no smoldering flame between Trelawney and Snape. Next chappie will meet her, and Snape's other girlfriends. _

_If anyone's wondering where I got the idea from this, it's from (another Hugh Jackman movie!) Someone like you. With Ashley Judd where she has a 'cow' theory about men. Thats my loose inspiration. _

_And fans of Ask Calus: I plan on rewriting the last chapter of that soon!_

_And of course, pleasepleaseplease let me know what you think of my latest installment!_


	3. Sybil Sloshed

Disclaimer: Hermione, Snape, Trelawney, not mine. The following conversations and situations, MINE!

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Oh, Merlin's furry knickers!

You would have thought I would have noticed that before but nope! There it was, in Slughorn's tidy, tight script:

_Sybil Trelawney_

Followed by her place of work.

And with the previous interview still in my mind, the images of Trelawney and Snape in my mind caused me to rush to a nearby brush, where I spent a good five minutes dry heaving.

I thought about skipping her. There were three other names that Slughorn had managed to get information on; I could just go to them.

But to be honest, there was some sick, perverse need to search this out. Even though the images would haunt me for my lifetime, I still, for some reason, wanted to hear this. Because from what I could see, Snape _loathed_ her. It never occurred to me that there might be a reason besides annoyance behind that!

And I certainly couldn't use my _Witch Weekly_ excuse! I worked with the hag!

And yet, somehow, some way, I find a way to get the information out of her.

Much in the same way Harry had gotten Slughorn's memory.

_No!_ Not that _Felicitas_ nonsense! That rubbish is nothing more than luck. The ingredients only give you the confidence that things are going to go your way and since you have this confidence, they do.

I mean, I am going to get Trelawney pissed.

As soon as I reach the top of the tower, Trelawney is waiting for me, gauzy sleeves billowing in the wind from the gothic window. 'I knew you would be coming…' her misty voice tells me.

Grunting up the stairs (sitting on one's bum reading does not a fit person make), I mutter, 'that's because I told you at…' _wheeze_ 'breakfast!'

She ignores my words and beckons me in grandly. 'Enter, enter, my dear! Recall that one must shed their discrepancies at the doorway!' and like a mad bat that she is, she disappears back into the room.

She is sitting on a yoga pillow when I finally get to the top. She smiles dreamily at me. 'My dear, your aura is pulsing… are you feeling… thoughtful?'

'Er... sure.' I had better put up with her so she trusts me. 'Actually, Miss Trelawney—'

'Sybil,' she corrects, a slightly dazed smile on her painted carnation pink lips.

'…Sybil. Ok. Well, you see… Sybil…'

She gives a small nod, encouraging me to go on.

'Well, I wanted to appologise for my behaviour… in third year.' I am going to Hell for this! Ugh, it feels so awful to degrade myself in that way.

I feel…

So…

Dirty…

'And,' I continue. 'I also want to let you know that for that, I offer you this.' I hold out a bottle of the strongest Firewhisky, according to the bloke at the shop, a velvet bow wrapped neatly around the neck. 'I thought we could share it.'

ACK! I am going to wind up sobbing in the shower, completely nude later tonight for this.

She eyes me hazily for a minute before her round face breaks into a smile. I mean her whole face too, each wrinkle smiles at me.

* * *

A loud hiccough escapes her mouth and she giggles. 'Mahdear,' she slurs, swaying slightly on her cushion, 'the… eye… she is a very, VERY damn-ible woman.'

Yeah, I have no idea what she's on about either.

'Quit moving around so mush! Can't focus on yeh!' she slams back another shot, causing the last remaining scarf to fall off her head.

Hm. She's a ginger.

'Sybil,' I try to get her attention but it's as if she's two.

Sloshed as… a sloshed thing, she takes another swig. 'Did I…" she points in my general direction. 'Didju know that I wasn't always a seer?'

'No.' this _is_ news to me.

She nods and smiles luridly. 'Yeh. I was jus' like you at one point. Stuh… Stoo… Shtudrous…'

'Studious?' I offer.

'S'what I said.' Another drink. 'I jus' read and read and _read_. Didn' talk to _no_body. So shy. It's amazin' I even lost my veggies… my vegitarianissss…'

'Virginity?'

'S'what I said!' She takes off her lenses and huffs at the glass. A horrible attempt at putting them back on ensues afterwards, though she can't aim the ear hooks to her ears. She decides to try to hold the lenses still and, with childlike determination on her lips, moving her _head_ to the eyepiece. This, naturally, doesn't work. So she just sets them on the table. Then just stares at them.

And stares.

'Sybil?'

Lazy eyes fall on me. 'Hm?'

'You were telling me how you lost your virginity?' Because _this_ could lead to other sexual topics—and sloshed people, I have come to realise, love talking about sex—like Snape.

No, not that Snape is well-known for talking about sex, that he would be a sexual topic.

Blimey, people.

Trelawney hiccoughs before pointing at me. 'I… No one knowssss zis. Bu' I can trus' you nottoo tell, right?'

'Oh, I am a regular steel trap,' I promise, hand over my heart.

'Well…' she leans forward, nearly losing her balance. 'C'mere.'

I lean forward was well and she grabs my shoulder roughly. In a slurred whisper, she says, 'It was… seven.'

'_You were SEVEN???_' Oh, my _god_.

She shakes her head furiously. 'No, 'course not, silly. The _man_ who I los' it too… was seven.'

'_HE_ was seven years old???' I look at her now, not as a crazy kook, but a pedophile. I mean, not that _I_ am the pedophile, she is.

'No!' A mad laugh escapes her mouth. 'His _name_ was Seven!'

Ohhhh… This conversation is marginally less disgusting.

'His name…' She continues. 'was Seven Snake.'

Seven Snake?

'Severus Snape!?'

Drunken nod. 'Funny thing is? Was a game.'

Ok, now I am intrigued. 'Game?'

'Spinsaboddull. We got landed on three times. Three strikez and the…' her arms fly out, as if asking for a hug. 'FULL MONTY! We did it atop the Astrology Tower. Brrrrrr was cold. Anyway, afterzat, a few days ladder, I had a vision of the _future_ and I coul' sudnly, see auras. Well, I saw Seven's an' I had to tell 'em that our auruas clashed. Didn' wanna string the man 'long, did I? No, cause I'm a good person. He acted all right withit, but I could tell he was devastated. I twould have nevvvver worked out. Good sport though. Didn't try to seduce me or anythin'. Takes a big man to resist _this_.' With this last word, she gestures toward her rail-thin body.

Wow. The things alcohol tells you. It would not be good to lost one's virginity because of a game. I almost felt bad about her.

'Mahdear, be careful tomorrow because you will lose your favourite book.'

Feeling passed.

'Sybil, what was he like in bed?'

'Oo?'

'Severus… Seven.'

'Oh. All right, I s'pose. When he—' And then, with that, her eyes rolled so far into her skull that I could only see the whites, and she collapsed to the side, fainting dead away.

Well. I can't really use that for much. Though it did help with my gag reflex. At least Snape wasn't really willing to sleep with her, as I'd thought. I had been losing all my respect for him, thinking of Snape and Trelawney.

Ugh.

On to the next person. Thankfully, I don't recognise this name. Or any of the others.

* * *

A/N: Well. There it is. Finally! Hope I got rid of the uckyness. Snape was forced to! He had no choice!

And the part with how ST and SS did 'it' was satirical of lots of fics I have read, with Spin the Bottle games and atop the Astronomy tower. (I know, in the story, it says Astrology. That's intentional. Since she's drunk.)


	4. Molly Weasely

Disclaimer: See this? This story is mine but Snape and Hermione, sadly, are not. Though I currently have the former trapped in my closet somewhere and he will be MINE!!!!!! JK!

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I got basically good reviews for Snape's shagging experience and, short of sleeping with him myself; I am going to have to take their words for it.

It's on to Step Two: Finding Snape a match.

**Seeking: Female**

Male

Favourite colour: Black. Occupation: Professor at Hogwarts. Age: Forty-two. Likes: reading, bewitching minds and ensnaring senses, potions brewing. Dislikes: Unintelligence, arrogance, scars.

Seeking Female with similar tastes. No older than forty-two. Must be smart, with modesty. Floo H. Granger for interview.

* * *

Interview #1

Subject: Tall brunette with short hair and wispy fringe. Takes long strides to table and extends hand far before this interviewer can reach. Introduces herself as Mary Chamberlain. One chunk of hair always hangs in left eye. Annoying. Voice like a child's.

H. Granger: How are you doing Miss Chamberlain?

M. Chamberlain: Call me Mary and I am doing well.

Subject does not inquire after _interviewer's_ state.

HG: How old are you, might I ask?

MC: Thirty-six but I _love_ older men.

HG: How are you with children?

MC: I have never been around any except when I was a child myself.

Subject likes to use conjunctions.

HG: I see. And how are you at potions?

MC (leans forward): You see, Miss Granger, I am only here because I need an older man to get rid of the burn that my dear ex-husband Rodney left.

Subject: Terminated

Interview #5

Subject: Short, round, blonde with dimples on each cheek. Hair is curly halo around head. Practically bounds up to table and grasps this interviewer's hand with both of hers. Nails are long and pinching.

HG: May I inquire after your name?

Subject: Of course! My name is Rachel Angstrom and I am twenty-nine years old. Oh, I love the colour black and am so glad to find someone who shares my liking. Who are you? The male in questions' sister? Friend? OH! Or are you one of those swinging couples? I have never done that but I think it would be funner than just one-on-one. Get it? One _on_ one? Because one is on top of the other? HAHAHAHAHA

Subject: Terminated

Interview #11

Subject: MOLLY WEASELY?????????????

'Mrs. Weasely?' I stand up so quickly I nearly spill my tea. 'What are you doing here?'

She comes bustling up to me, her bosoms clearing her path for her. Once she reaches me, she grasps me by the shoulders and kisses me on each cheek. 'Hermione, dear. I was wondering if you knew where Ginny went off to? Harry doesn't know and Ron is in Scotland right now with his team. Have you seen her?'

'I am sorry Mrs. Weasely.' I search my mind for something to get her out of here. It's not like I want her to know I am experimenting on her son and Order member. Which she may well find out if she isn't away before the next interviewee shows up. 'Have you tried the twins' shop?'

She grins up at me. 'I was going there next. Thank you, love.' And with a sigh of relief on my part, she hurries out of there just as someone taps me on my shoulder.

Interview #11

Subject (The _real_ subject): Tall stately woman with drak brown hair and high eyebrows. Elegantly shakes my hand and introduces herself as Zelda Surrey.

HG: How are you doing today, Miss Surrey?

ZS: I am doing well, actually. And yourself?

HG: Fine, thank you. Now, how old are you?

ZS: Thirty-nine, maam. And before you ask, I do not like kids very well. I suppose I just don't have the patience.

HG (taken aback): How did you know I was going to ask that next?

ZS (points to parchment on table): Is that not your questionnaire?

HG: I suppose it is. Very astute of you.

ZS: Anyone would have noticed.

HG: How are you at potions?

ZS: Admittedly, dreadful. I could just never get the hang of it. I admire anyone that knows how to do it as it is a very difficult and precise art. I have tried teaching myself further on it by reading but to no avail. (Subject laughs) I suppose you _can't_ learn everything from books.

This interviewer disagrees.

HG: So, you like to read?

ZS: I do other things but reading is definitely a pastime. I should be reading more but I really haven't had the time.

HG: What turns you off in a man?

ZS: I would have to say that I cannot stand a nancy-boy. Be a _man!_ And you have to be able to teach me something. I am no genius but if I have to carry all the information, so to speak, I am not going to stay very long.

HG: What physical features do you find attractive in a male?

ZS: I would have to say the eyes. That's what I go for first. I don't have a specific colour of the irises in mind, it just… oh, how do I explain it? Anyway, I also go for the arse.

This interviewer cannot recall the state of S. Snape's 'arse'.

HG: And what physical features are _un_attractive in a male?

ZS: On.

HG: Pardon?

ZS: Wouldn't it be 'what physical freatures are unattractive _on_ a male'?

HG: I suppose it _could_ be…

ZS: Weak chin. That's something I can't _stand_ on a bloke is a weak chin! Oh, and I once dated this man who had the _small_est nose. I kid you not!

HG: So you like _large_ noses?

ZS: There's something erotic about it. And you know what they say…

HG: Actually, the assumption that large feet, hands, and noses have any connection to the size of—

ZS: —scientists prove the size of the anatomy in relation to the size of the hands, noses, or feet is completely groundless, I know. It's fun to dream though.

Subject: Accepted.

* * *

A/N: Sorry so short! I will have the next chappie longer. And for those that wanted to meet more of Snape's past lovers, I am sorry. I really couldn't trump Trelawney. Well, please let me know what you think of my latest.

And if you are slightly confused where Ron is concerned, it will all be explained in due time. You lot know I like my little plot twists!

Next Chappie: Snape meets Zelda and they have their first date. Also, a bit of heat between Hermione and him.


	5. Sadistic Snape Who's Shocked?

_Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling is the mad woman who created the world and the unselfish woman who isn't keeping Snape to herself and allowing me to play with him a while.

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_

* * *

**::::::::::Severus::::::::::**

Miss Granger looks as if Potter was just killed… or she looks how _I_ would look if Potter died. She is glowing with a self-assured smile on her face.

And because she is once again walking, no _floating_ into my classroom, I can probably guess the reason: her experiment.

She strides right up to my desk and stops, just before hitting it, and smiles in such a way that alludes to many secrets, none of which I feel I am going to like.

'I found you someone,' she informs me proudly.

'Did you, indeed.' I sneer though I am a little curious at who she's 'found'. Also, I wonder what criteria she used, since she couldn't possibly know me well enough to know my 'type'.

I nearly ask the latter but Miss Granger speaks before I can. 'Her name is Zelda Surrey. She's smart, hates kids, admires large noses, older men, and potions – brewers. She's perfect.'

I would _highly_ doubt that, that she's perfect for me. Sure, she sounds fine on paper; however, that isn't _all_ I look for in a mate. No one just says, 'she has to admire this and this and hate this.' I am not a shallow person!

Before I can tell this to my colleague, she continues on, pacing, and my presence completely forgotten and unneeded. I stay, however.

'I mean, I had a few people that were duds, some of them downright frightening. I thought Miss Weasely was an applicant at first and nearly had a stroke. But Zelda seems just your type. And I think she's the type I can befriend as well. She even knew about the whole male – endowment in correlation with appendage sizes. That was impressive. We actually got to talking after that and she has a theory, a rather probable one. See, there's the theory, not hers, that the size of a man's… penis is relative to his intelligence quotient. The smarter he is, less… gifted. _Zelda_ thinks this is because there is only enough blood to operate one, not both. Also, males with higher testosterone tend to be more… primal, our closest link to our caveman ancestors. Men really haven't changed, not counting posture and language. Zelda claims men are just like cavemen, with a slightly different bone – structure. They are the competitive ones, since cavemen had to compete for food, the sexually driven ones, because we are put on here to procreate, et cetera. I mean, don't get me wrong, women have that whole nurturing feeling thing, which is primal. However, we have come quite a ways. Anyway, Zelda said that intelligent males are simply... evolved. Further along. Also, the size of a penis, which, in theory, intelligent males are not so gifted, isn't relevant to the potency of the sperm. It _can_ be helpful, a large penis, in increasing pleasure for the female. However, I believe that any tool can be useful if used correctly. If you get my meaning.'

I've seen Miss Granger on these rampages before, though I am never the one to whom she is speaking. Usually it was to Potter or Weasely. Once, I observed a while ago, she gets an idea into her head, she likes to think aloud, and lecture.

Completely in her own mind, Miss Granger continues. 'So, why, I wonder, do men associate penis size with manliness? I mean, it's not as though women compare breasts and say, "Oh, Susan has large bosoms and is _so_ feminine." I mean, the only reason we care about our breasts or appearance is to attract males. It's all that it's about, really. Sigmund Freud was right. I mean, we all do everything for the opposite sex. That and survival. It's like, a peacock. See, the males get themselves all showy to attract the female. Well, in human society, both genders do it. We try to attract the opposite sex. Or same sex, ok. I mean, the entire reason we fancy a person is about procreation. If we like smart people, it's because we want that intelligence to pass on to our children. Same with muscles. Because muscles give the aura of strength and there's survival of the fittest. We work so as to A, survive and B, buy things in order to attract a mate. So, yeah, we are all pretty primal still, though men more so – why haven't you stopped me?'

Suddenly, she ends mid – rant to press her hands on her hips and glare it me. Her question throws me off guard.

'Sorry?'

The way she looks at me is as though I were a particularly slow child. 'Ron and everyone else always stop me. If you _don't_ stop me, I end up going on and on, making a fool out of myself. You have to stop me otherwise, sometimes, I don't catch myself.'

'Why would I want to stop you? It's entertaining.' I am only being honest and thus, cannot be blamed for anything.

In theory.

If looks were hexes…

'I am not entertainment!' she protests. 'The only reason _you_ enjoy it is because you enjoy others' humiliation. So, either piss off or quiet yourself so I can catch you up to date on this experiment.'

Wow, kitty's got claws.

I do neither (the pissing off or quieting myself) but instead ask, 'How old are you, Miss Granger?'

Her eyes get tiny in confusion but she answers anyway. 'Twenty – one.'

'And yet your monologue sounded as though it came from a ninety – year – old spinster, never to marry.' As soon as the words brush my lips, her expression turns dangerous.

'What?!' She stalks clear around my desk to tower over where I sit. 'Just because I see women as the dominant species, doesn't make me some scorned woman! I suppose all feminists are man – hating lesbians too, right?'

I am not so stupid as to respond to that. No matter what I say, it wouldn't matter.

'I am unlike the norm in society and don't feel incomplete without a boyfriend. I am happy single, thank you very much. I could get a boyfriend any time I pleased but I don't feel the need for one. If some guy comes along and doesn't want to interfere in my life, and keep me from my goals, then so be it.'

There she stands, in a very comical ironic way of trying to intimidate me with her height as I did as her professor, her face flushed and her breathing heavy.

See? Entertaining. And I love to egg it on.

I say, silkily, 'Ok, so you don't want a boyfriend. What about a few shags? That wouldn't interfere and is just a bit of fun. You claim to be able to "get" any man you desire and yet you don't seem to have bedded any.'

Indignantly, she snorts. 'My personal life is none of your business. And how do you know I haven't bedded anyone? Just because I don't go around announcing it to the world. And maybe I haven't seen anyone I wanted.' She looks so proud of herself after that last statement. And it feels _so_ good to obliterate that feeling.

I lob the ball back into her side. 'Hm… so you think Rosmerta's son, Andrew, isn't attractive? The rest of Hogsmeade's female population appears to think so.'

Slightly confused, she shrugs. 'He's ok, I suppose.'

'So, you wouldn't mind sleeping with him?'

As intelligent as she is, she smells a trap. 'What are you going at?'

'Just answer the question.' I can barely contain myself. Miss Granger is proving to be a constant bit of entertainment.

'I suppose I wouldn't mind too much if he wasn't a complete tosser or anything.'

I smile and nod. 'Then, Miss Granger, why don't you go seduce him?'

'No!' she protests, her expression that of complete shock. 'I am not that attracted to him.'

'It's no different than what I am doing for you. I am going to have to seduce a woman and sleep with her. I don't even know what she looks like.'

Clearly, Miss Granger thinks she has something when she counters, 'Oh, but she's very pretty.'

'And I find Andrew handsome.' As the realisation settles in for her, I move on. 'Since we would be doing about the same thing, why don't you use your feminine wiles?'

'No.'

'Then, I might not remember how to use my charm.'

Ah, the sight of her mouth dropping open nearly causes me to lose my composure. 'Are you _blackmailing_ me?? Are you saying if I don't sleep with Andrew, you won't help me with my experiment?'

'Not at all.' I clarify: 'I am saying that you only need to _try_. Whether or not you prove to me you can seduce anyone, as you claim, and aren't some spinsterish hag, I will help you. But only if you _try_ to prove me wrong.'

'Why?' she wants to know.

I answer honestly. 'Because it would be _such_ fun for me.'

'But that's _using_ him!'

I stand up so that we are nose to nose. Though I have to bend down a bit to achieve this effect. She backs up a few steps. 'And aren't we using Miss Zelda Surrey in much the same matter? Actually, when you think about it, it's worse. I mean, we are using her like an experimental flobberworm.'

I watch on a bit as she struggles to come up with a formidable argument. Then, I continue on to the clincher. 'And Andrew isn't that smart. So, since he's unintelligent, logic says he must be well endowed. Poor Andrew isn't as evolved as yourself. Since you are the dominant of the two, what does it matter?'

Speared with her own sword. I love it.

I all but laugh at the sparks shooting out of her eyes as she grits her teeth. 'You are a right wanker; you know that, don't you?'

'So, you are going to try to seduce him?' I press.

She answers with the affirmative, 'Prick' and strides out of the classroom.

That was fun and there's more ahead. I just have to figure out how I am going to see Miss Granger's seducing skills.

I don't have an Invisibility Cloak, so…

* * *

_**A/N:** FINALLY! An update! And don't be too sad with the cliffhanger. I fully plan on using this winter holiday to finish up this story. Then I will do the others. I graduate 12 January, so then I will have time to do the others and pet the plot bunny that appeared today. I.e. start a new fic. So, happy holidays and please review and let me know what you think._

_Thnaks goes to whitehounduk from WIKTT, whose britpicker's guide I used._

'Kitty's got claws' _was taken from the LOVELY movie V for Vendetta. Better book, but the line's not in there. I don't think._

_Oh, and that bit about those theories are actually a correlation with some I found and a few I thought up._

**Next Chappie: Hermione seduces.**


	6. Making One'sself Into a Donkey

_Disclaimer: JKR: Genius… ME: Fraud. End of story. _

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**::::::::::Hermione::::::::::**

What else could I say?

I mean, I obviously was making empty claims. But what could I do? I couldn't ask for backup because then I would have to admit to someone my experiment. I was completely alone. And am now, which is a surprise.

I expected Snape to offer to chaperone on the Hogsmeade trip so that he could watch me make an arse of myself from afar. However, at breakfast, he told me he is just going to blissfully enjoy Hogwarts brat-less. He left me with the promise that will know if I don't go through with it. He'll probably use Legilimency on Andrew.

Bastard.

As I stride toward the Three Broomsticks, I hope to Merlin that Andrew is out on holiday or something. However, when I arrive, he's just walking out.

Unfortunately.

He doesn't see me, nor recognise me, and starts to stride off toward Weasely's Wizard Wheezes.

If Snape plans on using Legilimency on Andrew, then he would still see me, not going after him.

It's times like this that I _hate_ magic.

Andrew has hair the colour of unbleached eggs, and thus, is pretty distinguishable and easy to follow into the crowd. Also, he's really tall, about three inches over Snape and Ron, so that makes it easier.

That horrid, sick feeling fills my stomach and I take a deep breath. _Here goes everything…_ 'Andrew!'

He doesn't hear at first so I take long strides after him. I catch his arm just before he enters WWW. 'Andrew.'

He turns politely, eying me curiously. 'Yes… Hermione, is it?'

I nod. _Now what do I do?_ I hadn't thought about _how_ I am going to go about attempting to seduce him. If there is a way that I could do so without making myself look like a complete fool, _and_ accomplishing the task (because I would love to prove Snape wrong), I am unaware of it.

He's waiting patiently for me to answer.

_Come on, Hermione,_ think! _Remember every book you've read, movie you've seen. How did the girl seduce the guy?_ I work my way through many comedic and sleazy methods, alternatively. None of them seems right.

So, I go with the first thing that shoots into my consciousness. 'Listen, you're at Wiz Uni, right?' Wiz Uni is short for Wizard's University.

He nods slowly, the corners of his lips tugging his face into a broad smile. 'I am.'

'Wwell, see, in my Muggle Studies class, we are comparing Muggle Uni to Wiz Uni. Is there any way you could come in and talk to the students for me?'

'Sure.' He shrugs. 'When do you want me to come in?'

'Well…' what to say, what to say… 'Why don't we go to the Hog's Head an hammer out the details. Do you have time now for that?'

To my shock, he agrees.

* * *

At the Hog's Head, a location chosen for its lack of customers. After a while, I manage to detour the conversation. While rubbing my foot up his leg. 

'So, I don't know anything about you. What are your hobbies?' I try to sound super casual but come out sounding like a complete moron. I am going to _murder_ Snape if this doesn't work.

'Er…' he hesitates, shifting a little in his seat. 'I enjoy reading.'

What on earth am I doing? 'Oh, I find books to be an aphrodisiac.' Oh. My. God. That was so horrible.

Cocking his head to one side, Andrew studies me. He slowly lets out, 'I suppose…' There is a question in there.

Finally, I sigh. 'Ok, let me level with you; there's no class I need you to visit. I came here to seduce you.'

There's a small smirk on his lips and that's when I get it. It's Snape. He's Polyjuiced himself into Andrew. I sit back. 'You bastard!'

Confused, he asks, 'Sorry?'

'Come _on_. I know it's you. You changed yourself into Andrew, Professor, and planned on sitting back and watching me throw myself at you, as you laughed to yourself. Come on, let me see the Polyjuice vial.'

'I think you've made a mistake.' He shakes his head. 'I am Andrew.'

'Bullocks.'

'Look,' reasons he, 'we've been talking for over an hour. You need to take Polyjuice every hour in order to keep up the appearance.'

He's right. How could I be such a fool? And I haven't seen him take a drink of anything. He even denied a beverage here! So, crestfallen, I explain the brief deal concerning him. After I finish, he sits back and doesn't speak for a few minutes.

Then—

'So, basically, there's no way for you to win now. You've told me about the deal so if I were to sleep with you now, it wouldn't count because you didn't seduce me into your bed, but asked me into it.'

'But answer me this: when I was trying to seduce you, was there any way, I was tempting?'

'Sorry, no.' His reply is so frank and honest I can't help the stab in my chest. Even though I know I am a bad seductress, still, I hoped he would have thought an offer of sex was good.

At my expression, he adds. 'Hermione, I'm…' he smiles a bit. 'I'm gay.'

Oh.

'Well, Andrew is gay.' Now he's full-on grinning.

His use of the third person alarms me. 'What…'

'I spoke to him earlier today and he told me so. I didn't know ahead of time, however.'

'You _tosser!_' I leap out of my seat, knocking my chair back. 'You said there was no Polyjuice!'

Slowly, before my, and the other two occupants' of Hog's Head, 'Andrew's' honey-brown hair darkens and lengthens. His eyes deepen and his nose grows. Until Severus Snape stands before me. 'I didn't lie to you, Miss Granger. I used no Polyjuice or any other potions.'

'You… you're a metamorphmagus?' My mind whirls with the new information. Snape is an unregistered metamorphmagus. It's so rare.

'Yes. Though kudos to you for deducing that I was an imposter.'

God, I want to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face… with a hard slap. However, I manage to restrain myself and instead, walk out of the pub.

It's not difficult for Snape to catch up to me. Before he can speak, I snap, 'I hate you. You bastard! You did that just to entertain yourself! That's why you didn't mind if I proved you wrong or not; you just wanted to watch me seduce you. There was no way I could succeed because it was _you!_ And this doesn't count. I mean, you haven't proved me wrong because the… experiment was tainted.'

'You should really be thanking me, Miss Granger.'

At this new bit of information, I gawp at him incredulously. 'And why would I do that?'

'Because had you actually tried to seduce yourself, you would have been highly embarrassed and would definitely not have accomplished your task. You only had me.'

Which is worse, really. But I decide to change the subject.

'You have your date tomorrow. We best get you ready.' And maliciously, I add, 'And get you a haircut.'

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_A/N: well, there you lot go. He's a metamorphmagus. And it will come into play later in the story. ::evil grin:: _

_Yes, I am going to cut Snape's hair. ::another evil grin::_

_Sorry such a short chappie and thanks to all the reviews so far!_

**Next chappie: Snape's date and some fun. **


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